


Ode To Sleep

by Snowy818



Category: Onward (2020)
Genre: Anxiety, Anxiety Attacks, Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder, Blood and Injury, Insomnia, M/M, Masturbation, Mildly Dubious Consent, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Rope Bondage, Somnophilia
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-11
Updated: 2020-06-01
Packaged: 2021-03-02 04:47:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,854
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23599330
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Snowy818/pseuds/Snowy818
Summary: Ever since he could remember, Barley had a hard time sleeping.He thinks maybe it started when his father died, when the nightmares that started never let him sleep; that never really left. Hospitals scared him but it was something he could manage, that fear, however, was not manageable in his dreams. In his dreams, he couldn't escape the stark too bright walls, the smell that burned his nostrils, or the sickly man on the bed who was but a sad imitation of his father.
Relationships: Barley Lightfoot/Ian Lightfoot
Comments: 48
Kudos: 111





	1. The Best is Over and the Worst is Yet to Come

**Author's Note:**

> Fic rating might change in the future, for now? Enjoy the ride.
> 
> Tumblr: @indigo-nobility  
> Twitter: @royaltyindigo
> 
> Title and chapter titles refer to music by the way.
> 
> EDIT: This chapter has been edited by Chelsey ;> who you can find on Tumblr as: @chelseyelricjr

* * *

Ever since he could remember, Barley had a hard time sleeping.

He thinks maybe it started when his father died, when the nightmares that started never let him sleep; that never really left. Hospitals scared him but it was something he could manage. That fear, however, was not manageable in his dreams. In his dreams, he couldn't escape the stark, too-bright walls, the smell that burned his nostrils, or the sickly man on the bed who was but a sad imitation of his father.

Well, luckily, there was medicine for that. Pills that would knock him out into a dreamless sleep, but left him feeling strange for a while. His mother had taken him to the doctor where he'd been prescribed them after she noticed his habit of falling asleep everywhere because he hadn't slept for three nights in a row. He told her himself when she asked. 

They were better than the nightmares.

Sometimes, sometimes he forgot to take his medicine and he'd be back in the hospital. 

Back with the tubes and decay.

Back with the dad he never said goodbye to.

On those nights, he'd find himself slipping into Ian's bed, careful not to wake the other with his terrified shakes as he tried to calm down. He found the sound of his little brother sleeping soundly to be the most comforting sound in the world; because if he was breathing, then he was alive and if he was alive, then everything was good in the world.

It didn't happen often that he'd be too noisy when he crawled into the others bed, his arms trembling too much when he wrapped them around Ian. Those nights were the best because Ian would wake up and hug him back, thin arms reassuring him that he was safe. Just the way things were meant to be. But then he'd eat cereal in the morning with Ian before school and there would be those shadows under his eyes, signifying his interrupted sleep. It made his gut twist at the sight of them, guilt filling his mind as he vowed to be more careful next time. To not wake Ian up.

It would come to happen four other times.

So he stopped slipping into Ian's bed at some point. Stopped seeking comfort in the person he knew he could find it in. He had to make sure of it.

His brother was _brilliant_.

So, _so_ smart and nothing like himself. For the most part, he couldn't even focus when it came to school, his mind too frazzled with thoughts that he would rather be thinking. Thoughts that weren't school-related. His mind was like that sometimes, always picking and choosing what it wanted to focus on and never what he needed to focus on. At least, that's what his teachers always told his mother. 

But his brother, oh, the praise teachers would sing about his brother. _Ian is so talented. Ian is so well behaved. Ian is going to go far in life, at least you'll have the satisfaction that one of your kids will._

At that point, he'd learned what the word screwup meant; because it referred to himself, he had to learn it. But it wasn't his fault that his mind made school harder than everyone said it was. Despite that, he never found it in his heart to be jealous of Ian for having a good mind, one that did what it was supposed to. Instead, he was overjoyed and most of all, _proud._

Ian would get far in life only because he wasn't like him.

That line of thought strangely brought him more comfort than not.

He still remembers the last night he ever crawled into Ian's bed so clearly. The moon had lit the way to Ian’s room, and then his bed. The nightmare had been especially chilling. He hadn’t realized how loud he’d been breathing until Ian turned around in his arms as he struggled to calm his breathing down. Ian hugged him like he always did, comforted him like he always will, and pressed soft kisses to his face because nothing grounded him better. Ian knew him too well, even if he didn’t realize it.

He eventually fell asleep again that night. Head filled with thoughts of Ian and nothing else.

The next day, he found himself comforting Ian, sniffling because he was scolded in class for both falling asleep and a test he took that day had been sub-par.

His brother was brilliant.

He’d be damned if he let himself get in the way of Ian’s success, to be the reason he didn’t do better. He wouldn’t allow it.

The next time he forgot his pills and the nightmares came, he sucked it up. His heart felt like it was going to beat out of his chest, but at least the shaking in his limbs had faded to the occasional twitching by the time the sun rose. 

For Ian? He’d do anything.

Anything to protect his little brother.

As he got older, he got used to it. He learned more about life and changed.

The nightmares changed, too. Instead of the usual hospital setting they loved to take him to, he’d find himself dreaming about Ian. At some point, he’d promised himself that he would never be afraid again, but nothing scared him more than losing Ian. Somehow, he felt as though the nightmares knew this and took advantage of it, just to spite him. 

He continued to suck it up.

At 16, he got his driver’s license, eventually fixing up an old van he’d been working on for a good year. Her name was Guieneviere and she took him places where he could get his mind off things, off the nightmares, off the fear of losing Ian, off the feelings that scared him when he thought about them too much. Sometimes he’d disappear for a while, waking up from a nightmare only to start driving by choosing a direction and sticking to it. Mom and Ian would worry when they woke up to find him missing, but that was fine because at least he wasn’t hindering anyone's sleep. 

That was something he considered a fair trade. As always, Colt would find him and escort him back home after mom got too worried. Because she always told Colt. And Colt would always figure out how to track him down. For her. It was one of the only reasons he respected him. It was manageable.

Then Ian turned 16. 

Together, they went on a grand quest and he got to finally say goodbye to his dad. A gift that Ian had given up for Barley. It was something he’d never forget. It was also something he could never repay Ian for. But it was okay because Ian was proud to be his brother, he wasn’t a screwup to the one person who’s opinion mattered more than anything. It brought comfort and feelings that he’d long buried. 

Adoration and love.

So similar and yet different. Love was the warm feeling in his chest and need to protect his brother. Adoration was the tight feeling in his chest and thoughts of Ian that would keep him up at night. A reverence and need to keep Ian close. Adoration and love were similar in that they both scared the shit out of him.

Which is probably why his dreams made yet another change. The fear of losing Ian had become so much crisper and this time, was something he could actually taste. He still remembered the bile in his throat and drop of his stomach as he watched the rope in his hands loosen from Ian’s waist. The magic beneath him disappeared as he took another step, falling to his almost death. How _could_ he forget when his mind would replay the moment over and over again? He couldn't, so he dealt with it like he always did. 

Except that this was the third night in a row that he hadn't touched his bed. He wondered if anyone had noticed yet. His vision had begun to have an almost constant blur. His last bottle of pills was empty and he couldn't bring himself to ask for more. The guilt of asking for something he considered to be non-essential plaguing his mind until he’d resigned to save up to buy another refill of his medication.

Sighing, he laid in bed, debating whether or not to close his eyes and attempt to sleep again. The room was dark and the conditions were perfect but he just _didn't want to_ , of course, that didn’t stop his eyelids from eventually falling to the pure exhaustion that took over him.

Ian was walking on air again, on his belief. It was beautiful and his laughter made his heart ache.

Then he was falling. All the way down into a never-ending abyss, his screams echoing off the walls on the way down, eventually fading away to nothing. Barley was sobbing but his body wouldn't move, he wanted to jump in after him, hoping to reach him somehow. To save his little brother.

He was frozen.

All at once, there was nothing and then he was gasping. Shooting up from his rumpled bedding with uneven shaky breaths and a heart that was about to explode. It was too much. He had to get out of there, but his legs tangled into his sheets and he slipped onto the ground with a heavy thud. Laying there with pain blooming in his hands, he could only meagerly pull air into his lungs, wishing he was better. Maybe then Ian wouldn’t have almost fallen to his doom, that he could have been more competent and tied a better knot that wouldn't have undone itself. A knot that would cover Ian and protect him from the dangers of the world. Maybe if he did it good enough, it could protect Ian from himself. But it all felt like wishful thinking.

His eyes trailed around the room, spotting in the corner of the mess, a rope.

Barley’s mind came to a halt.

He stood quickly, grabbing the brown rope and looking it over; It was coarse and pieces of it were sticking out but all he needed was function. Pulling out a beaten-up laptop covered in stickers, he sat on the floor again. His fingers tapped the keys quickly with a specific search in mind.

_How to tie knots._

A video began to play and he watched diligently, finishing one and undoing the rope to tie another. Over and over again. Barley didn’t notice his breath had evened a while ago and he didn’t care. For the first time, the hyperfocus his mind sought out was a good thing as he continued tying the rope, the only thought occupying his mind for the first time in a while. 

Maybe if he did it enough. If he learned to do it well enough, he could save Ian in a place he couldn't reach.

When sunlight finally peeked through the cracks in his curtain, he could see how raw his fingers had become from overusing the rope. Strangely enough, he felt good, aside from his body slumping from exhaustion.

When he slipped into bed, his eyes shut and he dreamed of nothing.

  
  



	2. This is Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Barley is awoken, but this time, something is different.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> EDIT: this chapter has been beta'd by the lovely chelsey!!! you can find her on Tumblr as: @chelseyelricjr

* * *

  
  


Barley shook the clear bottle in his hands, staring at the lone pill that fell into his palm. The white chalky texture stood out against the rosy flush of his darker palms. His eyebrows furrowed as he turned over what he had to do for tomorrow, attempting to calculate if he needed to sleep for the night or if he could get away with yet another sleepless night. The arm moved upwards to his mouth and stopped, lowered and deposited the pill back into its home. 

Ian had a mathlete's competition in two days, he would need it then. He could sleep then. For now, he rolled onto bed, waiting for exhaustion to drag him away to where he would inevitably be awoken from his sleep by the dreams again.

As it always did.

  
  
  
  


He found himself tying a rope around his brother's thin waist, fingers working the rope into a strong and sturdy knot that was sure to hold together. The dreams always started like this. Except, it  _ wasn't  _ the same. His hands paused, moving again to pull apart the bound rope and retying in into something better. Something that would protect Ian, not come undone and-

Ian was stepping into nothingness again, his laughter bubbly. It always made his throat close up, hands tightening around the rope as he watched. 

The rope did not come undone.

But Ian still fell, and this time, his scream fell short. A sickening crunch silencing him as the rope pulled him forward, the momentum of the weight pulling pulling pulling-

The ground beneath him disappeared and he found himself falling forward with him.

Into black and then-

Nothing. 

  
  
  
  


Thunk.

"Ow."

Barley rubbed his back, looking up at the dark ceiling and then at his bed, which he noted he was not in anymore. The scattered clothes and mess on the ground broke some of his fall, but not by much because he could feel weird pain from a hard object he must have landed on. Upon further inspection, he found an amber dice with gold numbers. He remembered using it during the last campaign he played a few days ago. He also remembered picking it out because he thought it looked like Ian's eyes when the sunlight hit them as it fell.

_ Ian _ .

Rubbing his face, he struggled to forget the events of his dream but his hands trembled. It never worked but it didn't hurt to keep trying. What was most jarring was that the dream was  _ different _ . Why? Well, he wasn't sure, but the muscle memory ingrained from sleepless nights tying rope into knots must have done  _ something _ .

It changed things.  _ He _ changed things…. Could he possibly change the outcome entirely? His mind ran through the dream again. All he had really changed was the way he tied the rope. 

The constrictor knot, once tightened, is extremely difficult to undo.

And it had done the trick, but Ian still fell. So, how could he stop Ian from falling entirely? Ideally…  _ not _ crossing the invisible bridge at all could be a good start. 

"Well, I can't just tie him up and stop him from cross- oh."

In a moment, his beaten up laptop found its way into his hands again. Beside him, a rope lay on the ground. His fingers moved on their own accord before he could consider it.

_ How to tie someone up with rope. _

Click.

The first image that met his eyes was a knot that almost looked like a butterfly.  _ The handcuff knot _ . It said enough about its use and he considered the implications as he grabbed at the rope and started to replicate it. In and around, his fingers fumbled through the motions until he was left with an imitation of the knot he saw. It looked off but it was a good start.

He did it again. Untying it carefully and redoing it the way he remembered; Would it be enough to stop Ian from crossing? Ian wouldn't be able to cast the spell in the first place without his hands but if he dreams Ian would continue walking...

Maybe further research was in order, but as he scrolled through search results, a word kept jumping out at him: 

_ Bondage _ .

That was when people liked being tied up, right? It was considered sexual but what he was doing here was very  _ not _ sexual and yet… as his eye took in detailed patterns of bright rope wrapped around plain mannequins, he couldn't help but imagine Ian with the same rope patterns. Binding him and keeping him safe. 

He shivered reflexively, trying to stop the train of thoughts that would have him doing other activities that wouldn't exactly 'calm him down'. 

But.

_ But _ .

If Ian was completely bound, he wouldn't be able to move. To walk across the invisible bridge only to fall and die like he always did. Ian would be unable to move and he'd be safe with Barley. All he'd ever wanted to do was keep his little brother safe. With that, his hands began to move across the rope. This time, wrapping it around his own legs carefully glancing at the screen and back to his work. When he finished, he stretched his legs out, but apart bending his knees, there wasn't much else he was able to move, much less walk. It was  _ perfect _ . So he did it a few more times. 

Eventually the sun rose again, bringing with it a brightness that had his eyes readjusting and fingers freezing. Everything was right in the world. Maybe his fingers ached and his vision blurred, but that was nothing to the fear of losing Ian. Nothing ever would be.

* * *

  
  
  


“Psst… Barley? Are you asleep?” A soft voice called out in the dark.

Was he? If he had been, at least, he certainly wasn’t anymore. Groggily, Barley reached for the switch to his lamp. Shaped like a D20, it flooded the room in a warm yellow glow so he could actually see. Oh, it was Ian standing in front of the barely open door, donned in pajamas and with a frown on his face.

Barley sat up. “Hey bro… why are you awake at…” he glanced at the clock. “...three in the morning? I thought you had your mathletes' competition today.” The worry in his voice was evident. At least, today it wasn’t the nightmares that awoke him. He’d made sure to take his medicine before bed, to make sure he was fully rested for Ian’s event.

“I did-  _ do _ , I just… I had a nightmare. Can I spend the night here?” Ian’s eyes shone in the light as he looked down, the deep amber jumping out at him. Gently, Barley moved aside and patted the unoccupied space next to him.

“Of course, c’mere.” His younger brother slid in beside him, settling on his side to face him. “Do you… want to talk about it?”

“W-Well not particularly but-”

“ _ Hey _ , it’s okay if you don’t. Maybe some other time.”

Ian pursed his lips but his eyes read relief. Barley let the silence linger before bringing a hand up to wrap around Ian. His heart thudded as he was reminded of sleepless nights in a similar position. The slight worry he felt for a moment was dissipated when Ian hummed in acknowledgment, pulling himself in close and hugging him back, eyelids fluttering closed.

Ian looked so pretty up close, so precious and frail, the urge to hug him tighter crossed his mind for a moment. The tip of his finger only twitched as he allowed his own eyelids to fall.

“...Hey, Bar?”

“Yeah, Ian?”

“Do you remember crawling into my bed at night, every time you had a nightmare... when we were younger?”

“Of course I do, I’m older than you dude. If anything I'm surprised  _ you _ remember.”

“ _ I do. _ You’d always be so shaken up and- and sometimes I’d wake up in the morning and there you were. Guess you were careful not to wake me up?”

“Y-Yeah, I didn’t want to wake you. It was fine because it still helped me sleep, even when you were asleep.” He didn’t see it, but he felt Ian nod into his chest, exhaling a chuckle.

“It’s kind of embarrassing but I think I remember giving you kisses to help you feel better. I remember I tried that after mom had read us that story about the magic elf with healing kisses.”

“I mean, hey, they helped, so maybe you  _ are _ an elf with healing kisses.”

“Hahah.”

“Wait, what if  _ I’m  _ also an elf with healing kisses…?”

“Barley-!”

Ian kept his eyes closed but pushed his head back, knowing what was coming- wet sloppy kisses began to litter his face; cheeks, nose, forehead. Barley continued when he heard Ian laugh, it brought warmth to his stomach and his chest ached to hear more of it.

“Ha-  _ Barley-! _ ” He pulled away, pulling Ian to his chest and chuckling into his soft hair.

“Well, Sir Iandore?”

“ _ What? _ ”

“Do my kisses have healing properties?”

“Hmm, I dunno…” Ian grinned into his shirt.

“Oh, I see. I’ll have to try again-?”

“No-!”

Barley leaned forward to kiss him again, but Ian was twisting his head away and somehow the sloppy kiss he planted ended up on the corner of his lips.

“ _ Okay, fine!  _ You have healing kisses too! Just stop before you end up kissing my  _ mouth _ .” A nervous trickle of sweat fell down his neck, but when Ian said what he did with laughter in his voice- it didn’t feel like he’d almost made a grave mistake and crossed the line. The tone continued to feel light and Barley laughed along with him.

“Well, I mean, if you  _ doubt _ me again…”

“I won’t!” Ian nuzzled his face back into his shirt.

“ _ Good _ . You should get some sleep now though. You have your competition tomorrow, remember? A wizard in training needs to be well-rested for any challenges he might face!

“ _ Right. _ ” And with that, Barley brought up a hand to turn off the lamp, closing his eyes and reveling in the warm body residing in his arms. Steady, small breaths against his chest made it easy to doze off again.

.

.

.

“Barley…?”

“Hmm?”

“... sorry for waking you up again, but… why  _ did _ you stop coming over at night? Did you stop getting nightmares? I just… always wondered why you stopped all of a sudden.”

“...”

“Bar?”

“... s’not important…” The drowsiness in his voice was becoming apparent the more time he spent awake.

“C’mon, tell me?”

“...’still get ‘em, just started sucking it up. You… y’got upset because a teacher scolded you in class for fallin’ asleep. Was’ma fault so I stopped. Had woken you up cause I had a nightmare that day…”

Ian blinked, eyes opening then shutting again as he realized the mumbling trailed off because Barley had fallen asleep.

  
“ _ Oh _ …  _ Barley _ …”


	3. We So Good At Selling Lies

He didn't belong here.

Well… Barley  _ had _ walked in here of his own volition, so it could be argued that, in the setting, he  _ did _ belong. But the sick feeling in his gut made it feel like he was somewhere he shouldn’t.

A sex shop.

“Excuse me, sir?”

Barley moved to the side, looking behind at a shorter minotaur who wore the store's logo on her shirt, and on her name tag read 'Emmelie.'

“Was there something you were looking for in particular?”

“...rope please?”

“Right over there, next to the anal beads.”

“...thanks.”

Now, it wasn’t the fact that it was a sex shop that had him out of sorts. He’d ventured into some here and thereafter he’d turned eighteen. A sign of his eagerness to explore what the world had to offer. But now that he was here with something else in mind, he felt nauseous. 

Barley was here for rope, rope which he was learning to tie. Rope which he would then proceed to imagine Ian tied in. Rope that he bought from a sex shop.

The connection there was what was currently making him second-guess himself.

Often, the majority of the thoughts that plagued his mind involved Ian. An overwhelming love enveloped everything he thought of Ian. But Barley was young and his mind wandered  _ certain places _ frequently. Every time the erotic stuff in his mind mixed in with thoughts of Ian? Well… he’d find himself biting at his fist as he jerked himself off undercovers, hoping and wishing that he wouldn’t be dry heaving into a toilet and sobbing for a while afterward because he’d cum to the thought of his little brother. It always happened that way anyway.

It was inexcusable to him. Tainting Ian like that. 

Barley’s mind caught up with him.

Staring at the ropes for a bit, he eventually grabbed a red one, hating how nice it looked against the light blue of his own skin. To the side were books on the topic of rope tying as well. ‘Bondage’ was what most of them described the activity as. But, after some searching, he came upon one that looked the most non-sexual in relation to the rest of the books. It read ‘Shibari’ instead.

“Emmelie? S’cuse me, but I had a quick question.”

“Yes?”

“What’s 'shee-ba-ree?'”

“Oh you mean 'Shibari?'”

“‘Shibari?'”

“Yup, you got it. It’s basically the art of Japanese rope bondage. Are you interested in trying it out with a partner or something?”

“Yeah… something like that. Thank you, I’ll be taking this one-” he lifted the coil of rope up, “-and this Shibari book.” 

“Great! I’ll ring you right up.”

When he climbed into his van, he registered, tossing the bag of stuff into the back, focusing more on where he had to be at that moment. Barley drove with purpose to Ian’s school. The mathletes' competition would start soon and Barley just knew that Ian was going to do amazing.

* * *

“That’s my boy!” 

“That’s my brother!”

Ian cringed on stage at his family's voices, but the look dissipated as he accepted a gold medal from a centaur in formal wear. As he made his way next to a couple of other students with medals, he looked out into the crowd, catching Barley’s eyes for a moment. They stared at each other and then Ian winked, smiling brightly at the other's raised eyebrows. His smile faded, however, as he watched Barley excuse himself from his seat in the bleachers.

_...why? _

Ian found he didn’t have time to dwell on the question for long before the room erupted in applause, he smiled again and walked back to his seat. He leaned over to Laurel and cupped a hand close to her ear. “Where did Barley go?”

She whispered back. “Bathroom.”

“Oh.” He was tempted to go look for Barley for a moment, but the thought passed as the people dismissed. They’d meet back up in the parking lot anyway.

* * *

  
  


“Look at this guy- he’s my little brother! I can’t believe I'm related to such a smart guy.” Ian huffed as Barley ruffled his hair, they were weaving between parked cars looking for their own at the moment.

“It was just math Barley.”

“Well yeah but you actually understood the guy spitting out riddle’s disguised as ‘questions’” Barley made air quotes.

“ _ Suuure _ .”

“Hey boys, got a quick text from work, looks like I’ll have to head out right now. Celebratory ice cream will have to be just you guys. Is that okay with you sweetie?” Laurel slipped her phone into a purse, looking between her sons. Barley glanced at Ian and nodded as Ian did the same.

“That’s fine mom, go do what you have to.” Ian smiled at Laurel, waiting for her to hug Barley before he embraced her. After a moment, they watched as she drove out of the parking lot, turning around when her car disappeared.

“So,” Ian turned to Barley. “Where did you park?”

“In a perfectly  _ legal _ parking space.” Barley smiled at Ian and motioned him in a direction as he began to walk.

“ _ Barley _ , c’mon you  _ finally _ got a clean slate and you’re gonna build up tickets again? Colt can’t keep excusing them forever.”

Barley rolled his eyes, scoffing. “I don’t need him to keep doing that because look-” he motioned to Guinevere the second. The sight had Ian rubbing his eyes, wondering if Barley should have ever been issued a license at  _ all _ . “I actually parked where I was supposed to.”

“... I know I'm new to driving but I'm pretty sure you're not supposed to take up three spots Barley.”

“I’m just not a coward Iandore.” Barley stuck his tongue out at him as he walked around the van, looking at a note on the windshield blankly.

“Is it another ticket?” Ian watched him pick up the note and inspect it.

“No… it’s an angry letter because of… my parking.” A light smack resounded in the air when Ian facepalmed, frowning as his brother giggled at the note.

“ _ Barley _ .”

“I have to give them credit! They were very creative with the insults!.”

“I have no words. None. Just get me my icecream already.” Ian shut the door behind him and settled into the seat and watched Barley do the same. Slugging his backpack off, he tossed it behind the seats, eye’s furrowing at the crinkling sound when it hit the ground. He twisted his neck and spotted a black plastic bag lying half buried by his own bag. “...Hey Barley?”

Barley started the car, holding the wheel as he hummed. “Hmmm?”

“What did you buy today?”

“Buy?” He followed Ian’s eyes to the same plastic bag in the back. “Ah.” Barley stared at the bag with a blank smile.

“...ah?”

Barley blushed, averting his eyes, his mind focusing on escaping the nightmare that was his three spot parallel park. “Just some uh supplies I needed.” His voice was shaky and he could feel the slightest bit dampness on his hands.

“Oh, can I see?” Ian eyes roamed Barley for a moment, unfocused on how badly his brother was doing at being discreet in the slightest.

Barley pursed his lips, keeping his eyes on the road and shrugged. “If  _ you _ want.”

There was a click, shuffle, and a crinkle of the bag again before Ian made his way back to the passenger seat with the bag, safetly clicking his seatbelt on again and proceeding to focus his attention on the bag. Out of the corner of his eye, Barley could see him shuffle through the contents and blink.

“...Rope?” Barley swallowed, mentally kicking himself when his own hypothesis proved to be true as Ian held the rope up. That shade of red looked so good against his skin. He felt queasy.

Ian flipped through the book next, humming and stopping at a page, then closing the book and putting it back into the back with the rope.

“So um that's what ‘ah’ is. Huh.”

Barley coughed. “...Yeah.”

“Is it weird if I ask why?”

“Why what?”

Ian motioned to the bag. Barley regrets ever having stepped into that store today. “Why this I guess? This is a sex thing right?”

“N-No not like always, some people like it without the sex but uh- m-my friend asked me to help with this so I figured I’d learn…?” His answer didn’t sound quite right  _ even _ to himself.

“Oh, okay. That makes sense I guess.” Ian looked at the bag weird, pushing it behind the seats again and staring out the window.   
  
Barley tapped his finger’s on the wheel, biting his lip as he reached the ice cream place they frequented because it was Ian’s favorite. Ian just placed with his team during the mathlete competition and he deserved a treat for his achievements. He nudged Ian and handed him his wallet.

“Hey, can you get me two scoops of chocolate with the cookies on top? And you can get the banana split, you did an awesome job today.” He ruffled Ian’s hair, heart fluttering when Ian smiled at his words and chuckled. 

“Why aren’t you ordering them?”

“I just need to go to the bathroom.” The van became quiet as Barley shut it off.

“Again?”

“I drank a lot of soda, today  _ dude _ .”

“Well hurry up, celebratory ice cream isn’t really as fun by myself Barley.”

“Yeah yeah I’ll be back in a minute.” Barley smiled and waved, turning away and trying hard to not cup his own mouth as he swallowed again. He tasted bile.

He would meet up with Ian again after a few minutes, drops of water barley visible on the front of his shirt, but composure back and strong again.


	4. Arms Tonite

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> boom boom boom here we are once again

The day had continued on as smoothly as it could have, despite all the discomfort he’d felt throughout the day. He vaguely remembered how it had gone too. Like where'd he gone, Ian's mathlete competition, and having icecream afterwards. Most distinctly, he remembered the awful feeling of nausea that was beginning to overcome him more and more. The thoughts of Ian in his head became interconnected with anything he considered _desire_. Anything _sexual_. 

As luck would have it, the day was filled with opportunities for just that. Barley found himself visiting the bathroom often that day for the same reason.

It left him with a tight knot in his stomach that he had avoided by biting into his ice cream with teeth. Watching Ian's concerned and mortified reactions to him biting the icy treat was slightly amusing, because Ian's teeth were sensitive and he'd be in a good amount of discomfort if he did the same. It worked, at least, Ian was too perturbed to really ask anything else. _Least_ of all the rope.

Barley sat there glaring at the black bag that held the rope, he’d been doing so ever since relocating it to his bed where he'd tossed it after getting home. He pulled out the red rope after a moment, and then the book, inspecting them against the cream color of his sheets. 

Red.

Cream.

Black.

Periwinkle.

He clenched a fist in front of his eyes, studying the smooth and roughness that had developed from working rope so much. The rope he’d been using before- well he doesn’t remember why he had it in the first place, a past camping trip?- was a washed out brown color with strands sticking out that left more marks on skin than it ought to. He’d learned that the hard way the other day, and had to wear pants for a while when the purple lines from the tight rope had lingered longer than he thought they would on his calves. Frankly it was uncomfortable but it did the job.

As he thumbed over a strand of the new red rope, it was silky and smooth, had much more give and looked prettier. 

Barley eyed the book again, flipping it open to the first page with a sigh.

_The Handcuff Knot_

He hummed and turned the page, eyes trailing the diagrams of a knot he was already familiar with. At page five is when a new instruction started, this one looked mouch more complex, torso tied with a complex pattern with arms secured behind the back.

Barley thought back to an earlier train of thought.

_If Ian can’t move, he can’t walk out into nothingness. Fall into nothingness._

That would still leave the legs…

He flipped through some more pages, his eyes scanning back and forth for something specific now. Barley’s eyebrows lifted into his hair when he spotted what he was looking for, at least, it was close enough. A hogtie of sorts. When his began to look over it closer, he wondered if it was a little much-

Knock.

Barley’s eyes widened. He looked at the rope and book on his bed and flung them both to the farthest corners of his room possible, in hopes of hiding them throughout the mess that littered his floor. He smiled and coughed into his fist, patting his pants free of invisible dust before he puffed out his chest.

“Who dare knock at mine door tonight?”

“It’s me?”

“Who is this ‘Me’?”

A loud sigh could be heard behind the door and he chuckled.

“Barley it’s _Ian_.”

“You may _enter_.”

Ian’s face peaked through the door, unamusement evident on his face. Barley snickered, then his eyes spotted the pillow in Ian’s arms and blanket trailing behind him, he raised an eyebrow.

“I uh was wondering if you’d be down for a sleep… over. Even though we live together already- and stuff. Yes.” The easy smile slipped onto Barley’s face again at the sight of Ian cringing at his own words. Ian’s antics never failed to amuse him, and of course, how could he say no to his little brother?

“Of course you may, young mage!” Barley waved an arm out excitedly, emoting as he spoke.

“Awesome.” Ian said in a way that felt more exacerbated than anything else as he proceeded to move objects on the ground aside with his foot and placing his blanket on the ground.

“Hey hey hey- wait a minute. You're not planning on sleeping on the ground, are you?” he sat up and looked at Ian, a chuckle and awkward smile gracing the younger’s face.

“I… am? I mean, where else am I supposed to sleep?” Ian asked, as if the answer were obvious to everyone but him.

Barley scoot sideways, patting the now empty space beside him on the bed. “Uh in the bed? Duh? You slept here the other day, remember? It’s no biggie.”

Ian looked at the space next to Barley with trepidation. “Well, if you say so…” He tossed his pillow at Barley’s head, giggling at the other’s expression of surprise and then watching him proceed to dodge the pillow. Not a moment after, he slipped under the cover next to Barley, struck by an odd feeling of nostalgia. 

“ _Rude_.”

Barley was simply met with Ian sticking his tongue out, blowing a raspberry in his direction. He did the same. Ian smiled and pulled the blanket up to his chin and closed his eyes.

“Night Barley.”

“Night… Ian.”

The older blinked, bringing his arms up to wrap around his pillow and so very careful. He didn’t want to disturb Ian, and after the day he’s had, he’s careful to even touch Ian. Even if doing so brought him immense amounts of comfort. Closing his eye lids, he focused on Ian's soft breathing as he drifted off to sleep.

  
  


* * *

He’s going through the motions again. Tying rope around Ian’s thin waist, when he becomes aware of it again. Aware that he’s dreaming.

Barley pauses.

With the knot sturdier Ian still fell, except by not falling, gravity did most of the work of swinging him into the side of the cliff. He shudders violently at the memory. It wasn’t real but it fell so visceral to wake up from it.

This time, he’d need to stop Ian from walking at all.

Untying the rope around Ian’s waist, he knelt down and began to wrap it around Ian’s legs, a slight tremble to his fingers as he went. Barley tightened the knot and pulled away, watching carefully as Ian seemed to try to lift a leg, falling backwards against Barley's chest when he couldn’t.

Now this… was definitely different.

Barley clenched and unclenched his fists, staring at Ian in his arms whose face was one of confusion. The younger blinked up at him, looking around and then down at his legs and lastly at the space between the cliffs. 

What was Ian about to do? 

But there was no one to answer him, the Ian in his dreams never really spoke. Not outside his predetermined lines. Made up seconds ticked by at a snail's pace, and Ian shifted again, reaching out with his hands freed to grab at the ground and pull himself towards the cliff’s edge-

No

no

no 

no 

no 

no 

no

_Ian-_

Before Barley can really process it, he’s wrapping his arms around Ian, holding him in his lap as he struggles to finish his journey. It’s a jumble of limbs but he’s marginally stronger and Ian isn’t going anywhere. Most surprising to Barley is the fact that he could actually move, could actually hold Ian, and stop him.

That’s never happened before.

Ian laughs as he struggles, hips wiggling about. It’s the same bubbly laughter he has when he’s walking over the gap, this time, it only serves to frighten him. Everything feels _wrong_ , but that doesn’t stop anything and then Ian is wiggling much too close to his crotch- Barley lets out a gasp.

Ian stops.

The look on his face. It contorts and twists before he knows it, Ian is sobbing as he struggles. Harsh whispers he recognizes as ‘stop it’ bombard his ears over and over again. It’s all _wrong_ and his breath comes out in heavy gasps. Barley’s face burns as he lets go, eyes widening when Ian tumbles off the edge of the cliff.

Barley looks into the never-ending abyss and chokes on his voice. His body is back to refusing to move, a feeling of nothingness slowly washing over him like a cold numb.

Then there is nothing.

* * *

When Barley opens his eye in frantic blinks, he almost panics at the dark because it’s like nothingness all over again. But when his eyes finally adjust, he finds he’s in his bed, curly tendrils obscuring half his vision. It’s _Ian’s_ hair. He shudders as flashes of his dream tumble by, his hand reaching for something in the dim room. From the corner of his eye, he can see how his hand trembles mere inches from Ian’s shoulder.

He shouldn’t.

It would wake him up and- he couldn’t bear to let himself touch Ian now. Not when he remembers the look on his face from his dream. So he pulls away, breathing shakily as he counts along. The clearer his head gets the more he feels ashamed when he realizes he’s hard. He feels dizzy.

Maybe it’s Ian’s scent, his hair a mere inches away from Barleys face. Or maybe it's the dream. He knows he shouldn’t be. Both sicken him to his stomach and yet he’s stupidly reaching into his own pants and palming himself, watching Ians chest rise and fall from his deep slumber. Barley doesn’t ponder how Ian managed to sleep through his nightmare as he huffs, hips jerking into his hand. Ian is laying safely next to him and he’s surrounded by his smell and that’s all the matters. 

Ian makes a noise and shifts. It causes Barley to bite his fist, knowing he should have stopped at that moment, maybe even before he’d begun. But he doesn’t. He’s cumming into his underwear and tasting iron.

He lies there next to Ian, panting, the room silent otherwise.

For a moment, he thinks. Looking around the room feels strange, everything does. His eyes eventually land on Ian again.

Barley scrambles up, coughing because breathing was suddenly too hard to do, he _can’t_ . The bathroom shuts loudly behind him before he’s pulling up the toilet seat, heaving into the white porcelain that his hands slide on as shaky hands search for purchase on the sides to keep him from falling. He’s disgusting really. Barley should hate the feelings of nausea and the purging his body will attempt when he gets these _wrong_ thoughts about Ian. 

_Should_ . But he doesn’t. He never can bring himself to. They keep him and check and remind him how gross he is. How vile he _really_ is. The love and adoration he has for Ian, it goes so far that it twists into the wrong feelings. 

Barley’s wrong feelings, it makes everything around him feel so wrong wrong wrong wrong-

There’s a knocking sound, does his head hurt that much? It repeats and he wonders if he should be worried.

“...Barley?”

_Fuck._

He coughs, clearing his throat. “Yeah?” His voice sounded raspy, something he mentally kicked himself for as he looked down at his lap.

“Are you okay? I heard um…. The door shut. It woke me up.”

“O-Oh sorry about that. I think I ate something bad.” He forces a chuckle but its nature is obvious. “Woke up to vomit and stuff. It’s fine, you should go back to sleep.” The sword pattern on his pajamas gives nothing away he decides after squinting at them for a moment.

“... Is it okay if I come in? I want to make sure you’re okay.”

“I told you i’m fine, i’ll be there in a moment.”

“Barley-”

“ _What_?” He snapped.

“...Can I come in? Please?”

Barley glared at his pants, Ian’s comfort wasn’t something he deserved. Not that it was common anyway. He left Ian’s question in the air, stubbornly staying quiet.

“I’m coming in.” The door opened with the short phrase, Barley’s head darting up at the sound because he didn’t realize the door was unlocked. How could he have _forgotten_. His eyes met Ian’s and found himself confused at why the younger's eyes widened and darted about the bathroom rapidly.

“What is it?” He looks at the toilet and sees the red smeared onto its side in the imprint of a hand. 

_Oh_.

“Barley _you're bleeding_!” Ian is rushing to the towel rack and then grabbing something from under the sink before he kneels down next to Barley, the older is unaware of his flinch as Ian cups his face. The towel Ian’s wiping his face with is warm and he’s unsure how he might have gotten blood on his chin. “ ‘I’m okay’ my ass- how did you get hurt?”

Barley brought his arms up, looking at them carefully and finding that the source of the blood was on his knuckle, a large crescent shaped breakage on his skin that looked very much like a bite. “Uh...must've done it accidentally accidently w-when I woke up from a nightmare.” He’d done it to quiet himself when he was jacking off next to Ian sleeping like a weirdo but-

“You had a nightmare? I thought you woke up because something upset your stomach.” The sensations of Ian’s hands lingered on his face long after he’d moved on to cleaning the blood that had dripped down his forearm. He shouldn’t be enjoying their closeness.

“W-Well yeah, both. It was both. Duh it’s totally a thing Ian.” His attempt at humor seemed to fall flat on his brother, whose eyebrows remained slightly furrowed as he reached his knuckle.

“...Hm… i’m going to bandage this up, let me know if I hurt you.”

“Okay.”

Ian’s nimble fingers had his knuckle bandaged fairly quickly, a slight sting finally settling in with the antibiotic Ian had put on him. “This good?” He felt a thumb slide across the edge of the bandage where it wrapped around his palm, Barley blanked, struggling to come up with a response.

“Yeah. Thank you.”

“Where’s your medicine?”

“My what?”

Ian let go of his wrist and stood up, walking out to look around his room. “The one you use to sleep?”

“I ran out… yesterday.” He got a look in response when Ian peeked into the bathroom again.

“Should I tell mom to pick up a refill?”

“No, don't bother her, I’ll do it.” 

“Okay. Come to bed with me then.”

Barley looked at him, pursing his lips and pushing himself up, he followed Ian and layed down next to him. Somewhere, he felt that if he’d told Ian no, it would snowball into questions he didn't want to answer. To even think about. That had resulted in his underwear currently feeling as uncomfortable as it did.

Ian doesn't wait for any responses from him as he leans his head on Barley’s shoulder, hugging his arm close.

“Good night Barley.”

He swallows.

“I love you. Night bro.”

Barley feels Ian smile against him.

He doesn’t deserve it.

  
  



End file.
